T Minus 1 Day, cont'd
Elliot couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't hide his reaction either. His jaw dropped open. His eyes searched Howie's. And rather than his typical, well-ingrained, police-trained response, Elliot felt tears prick his eyes. "You have her?"
Howie's smile faded as his eyes widened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The tears started to spill over. "Did you hurt her?"
Howie looked away and didn't answer.
Elliot reached out, his hands locking around Howie's collar. "Did you hurt her?"
Then there were hands on him, pulling him away. He fought them, twisting and pushing, desperate to get something more out of Howie. But there were several pairs of hands and he couldn't fight them all.
"He has her! He just admitted it!" Even though he was clearly losing as the men pulled him backwards, he continued to struggle, hoping he'd get a hand free so he could renew his attack. "He has Liv, damn it!"
Cragen stepped in front of him, pulling the door shut so Elliot couldn't even see Howie anymore. "You need to calm down."
Full of fury and frustration and anger, Elliot's adrenaline rush gave him the strength to pull free for a moment, during which he lunged forward and tried to grab for the door. When Cragen continued to block his path, Elliot leaned down into his face. "Fuck you!"
Cragen snarled and narrowed his eyes, glaring back at Elliot with a venom few of the cops present had ever seen. "Back off, detective!"
With a primal, animalistic yell, Elliot slammed his fist into the wall. The plaster cracked and buckled under his assault, giving in just as his hand did. The rage was keeping the pain at bay, but he knew he'd done some damage. The bullpen was eerily silent as Elliot turned and stormed away, his bloodied fist hanging limply at his side. People were staring at him, but he didn't care.
Howie had her. He fucking had her. And Elliot still couldn't get to her.
He stormed up to the crib, needing to blow off steam before he really did kill Howie. He couldn't kill the man until they found Liv. He shoved through the door and moved to sit down on one of the cots. For the first time he realized that whenever he chose to sleep there, he always chose the same bed and that was the same bed that Olivia always opted to use. It brought a smile to his face. He didn't know if it was because they just instinctively felt comfortable in the same area of the room or if perhaps it was more than that, maybe a deeper urge to connect somehow. He shook his head, decided that being without Olivia too long had made him so insane as to wax philosophical, and swore he would never tell anyone that he'd become so pathetic.
Even so, he sat down on their bed, the same one she'd been lying on that fateful day when he'd found her there, touching herself, thinking of him. The idea, the memory, sent a rush of heat through his body that settled uncomfortably in his groin. He forced it out of his mind. Work was not the place for such things – real or imagined. He closed his eyes and counted to ten about thirty times and was no calmer for it.
His eyes shifted, finding the wall a few feet away where he'd shoved Olivia. There was nothing there, of course, no lingering signs of what had happened. He'd already known that. He'd already gone there looking for her. But he still thought there should be some indication of the Earth-shattering event that had taken place there. Maybe her handprints burned into the wall. Maybe some ghostly reflection of their bodies hovering in the air between the beds. Maybe a glass box like the one they put around the pillow Lincoln died on so that no one would ever disturb that consecrated space.
Something. It deserved something.
His eyes dropped down to the floor beside him, practically able to see her body wrapped in his where they'd collapsed on the ground. He could remember those precious seconds, while his body recovered from the physical rush, when she'd rested peacefully in his arms, his body still connected to hers in the most intimate of ways.
There were tears in his eyes when he looked up, finding the place where he'd kissed her so thoroughly, where she'd agreed to talk to him, where they'd found a blissful moment of intimacy after the sex, the moment that assured them that it hadn't simply been anger and attraction. After everything they'd been through together, they'd found that moment of holding each other and enjoying the knowledge that their bond would remain intact, would actually become stronger, after giving into the physical desire. They'd deserved that much. They'd deserved that night sitting in a diner and drinking bad coffee and sharing a two week old piece of apple pie. They'd deserved to walk home together that night and share a tender kiss, perhaps even share a bed in a sweet, chaste embrace following the roughness of the evening.
But they hadn't gotten the chance. Those precious moments, those first few hours of their deepened relationship, those irreplaceable chances to open up to one another, had been stolen from them.
By Howie. By the son of a bitch who sat in the interrogation room, claiming to be confused by Elliot's questions. And Elliot was supposed to sit there and wait. While Olivia sat somewhere, hurt and scared and injured and alone and who knew what else.
He'd waited a week.
Fuck waiting.
He was done waiting.
Reaching for the doorknob, he realized his hand was seriously injured. It was already swollen to the point where it didn't quite resemble a hand any longer and was mottled with purple spots. It was a curiosity because he was used to large bruises. He didn't know quite what to make of his hand, except that he fully expected someone to be quite thoroughly disappointed in him. He really hoped it would be Olivia.
With that thought in mind, he returned to the bullpen. Fin was there, waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He nodded as Elliot descended the stairs. "Cragen's waiting on Casey, hoping for a warrant."
"But we can arrest him and print him in the meantime, right? I mean, fuck, he admitted he has her."
Fin shrugged nervously, hesitating by Elliot's side, obviously expecting him to charge the interrogation room at any moment. "Well, Huang's in there now."
"So?" Elliot stepped in the direction of the interrogation room, but Fin stepped into his path. "Huang can talk to him after we get his prints."
Fin grimaced. "He kind of went a little psycho after you left. He started shaking and wailing about keeping Maggie safe."
Elliot's eyes narrowed. "He thinks Olivia is Maggie. He's got her. There's no way of knowing where she is. Even after we get his prints and his real name, what are the odds she's sitting in his living room? Maybe she's always wanted to run off and change her name to Maggie."
"Come on, man," Fin shrugged, letting Elliot know they were on the same side about beating the answers out of Howie. "He's not going to tell us anything if he's in a padded cell at Bellevue, right?"
"So he's crazy now? He wasn't crazy in school or at home or at the library or wherever the fuck he works. He wasn't crazy when he lied about knowing Olivia. He wasn't crazy when he led us all over the fucking town trying to lose us so we couldn't follow him to Liv, but now we have him dead-to-rights, now he's a fucking nutjob?"
"I saw him. He was really freaking out about Maggie. I don't think he's faking." Fin went back to his desk, keeping a close eye on Elliot in case he needed to run interference.
Elliot walked over to Fin, leaning in his face. "This is Liv we're talking about. That fucker's got her stashed somewhere playing house. Who's side are you on?"
Fin nodded. "Trust me. When you're breakdown that door to find her, I'll be right behind you."
"Hey guys! I hear you've got something for me." Casey dropped her briefcase by Cragen's office. "You think you've got the guy?"
Elliot nodded. "Huang's in there now, probably giving the guy a free pass."
With a frown, Casey turned to Cragen who was just emerging from his office. "Why don't you people ever call me before you hand someone a psych defense?"
Cragen glared at Elliot and then at Casey. "They guy isn't right in the head. We didn't hand him anything."
Elliot headed for Cragen, only remembering in the nick of time that his hand wouldn't survive another hit. "That son of a bitch admitted he has Olivia. What the fuck are we doing just standing around?"
Casey's eyes widened as she looked around. "He admitted to taking her?"
"Yeah." Elliot stared at Casey, daring her to look at Cragen who was clearing his throat.
But the older man spoke up anyway. "What we actually have is a man who claims that Maggie is somewhere safe."
"He brought up Maggie?" Casey still seemed excited.
"Elliot asked about Maggie." Cragen's gaze dropped, as disappointed in the answer as everyone else.
Casey sighed loudly. "Do you have anything else?"
Elliot and Fin stared at her, her disappointment upsetting to both of them. Cragen shook his head. "He was overly interested in Olivia when they met and has been jerking us around ever since she disappeared."
Elliot narrowed his eyes, shoving things around on his desk until he found the enlarged photos of Howie following Olivia. "We have him stalking her. When we ask him about her, he pretends he doesn't know what we're talking about. And when I asked about Maggie, he says that he's keeping her safe from me."
Curiosity crossed Casey's face as she looked around the faces of the men around her. Finally she stared at Elliot, smiling as she did. "How exactly does someone keep Olivia safer than with you?"
Flattered and embarrassed by the comment, Elliot fought to keep his face neutral and give the impression that he was brushing it off. "You got me."
Her smile faded as she looked at the pictures. "It's not enough. This only shows that he was around her. If you go by that, Elliot, you were stalking her too."
Elliot grabbed the pictures back, throwing them angrily at his desk. "So we have nothing. Never mind the fact that we have the asshole who took her, we have nothing. That's just fucking great. Remind me to tell Olivia how fucking helpful you've been when I find her." He threw himself down in his chair, dropping his face into his hands and feeling more helpless than ever.
Casey saw his reaction, actually wincing at the image he presented. She looked at Cragen, lowering her voice considerably. "Is he ok?"
Cragen shrugged. "How would you feel if someone kidnapped your best friend and you couldn't do a damn thing about it?"
"Give me a call if you get anything on this Howie guy. Anything. I'll call in every favor I have to get a warrant for you." Casey's shoulders were hanging when she left.
Clearing his throat, Cragen turned to his detectives. "All right, what else do we have?"
Munch shook his head. "The prints on the dumpster came up empty. Avery was the only interesting thing we found."
Fin shrugged. "I'll call O'Halloran. See if he came up with anything on the library sweep."
Lake nodded toward the interrogation room. "I'll go check in on Huang."
Cragen nodded, appreciating everyone's attempt to help. On his way back to his office, his hand fell on Elliot's shoulder. "We're going to get him."
A few minutes later, Fin retrieved the fax he'd been waiting for. "All right, we finally got a good list of names to check from the library." It was several pages long, so he distributed the pages around.
Cragen emerged from his office, taking a few pages to search for himself. "Get to work people. Howie's real name has to be in here somewhere."
Munch looked up from his list. "Spending a night running background checks on brown-nosing future engineers. Just how I like spending my days."
Elliot looked up from his list, narrowing his eyes at Munch. "Maybe we should just move on. You know, it's been a week. How about we just forget about Olivia altogether?"
Chastised, Munch looked down. "That's not what I was saying."
Fin jumped in, hoping to break it up before Elliot went after Munch. "We've got a hell of a lot of names here. How about we put off killing each other until we find this shithead's real name?"
Lake shook his head and started typing. "All right, Kenneth Anderson, what are you hiding?"
"Maybe Neil Henry knows something." With a grin, Fin sat down across from his partner to start his own list.
Elliot looked at his list, too exhausted to even hope Michael Lanshaw had anything to do with it.
"Ok, so maybe I've got the lucky list." He shifted his mouse around on the desk, bringing his computer back from its nap. "Ruskinowicz, Douglas H. Who are you, really?"
Elliot's head jerked up. "Douglas Ruskinowicz? Why do I know that name?"
Cragen let out a low chuckle. "You recognize that? I was a rookie. Were you old enough to talk?"
Elliot shook his head. "It sounds familiar. I don't know why."
Munch stared at the list, searching his memory. "Doesn't ring a bell." He looked to Fin and Lake, both of whom shrugged.
Cragen explained himself, why he knew the name. "It was one of those horrible cases that gets all the attention. Little boy, abused by his parents, eventually abandoned."
Elliot tried to think of it, tried to remember something about it. "I still don't remember anything about it. Just the name."
"I think he was about four or five. Neighbors went over to see if something was wrong since they all just disappeared. They found a little girl, dead in her bed, beaten to death by her father." Cragen shook his head, still easily able to remember the specifics of a crime that was so old simply because it had been so awful. "Douglas was curled up with her, trying to keep her warm."
Fin turned to his computer, looking up the name that Munch was supposed to be searching. "What's the spelling on Ruskinowicz?" Munch started reading out the letters one at a time.
Elliot looked up, stopping him at the N. "What did you say his middle name was again?"
Munch paused, deciding to go with Elliot rather than continuing with the spelling. "Doesn't say what the H stands for."
"Shorten Douglas to D."
Cragen looked over Elliot's shoulder, seeing what Elliot had written on his notebook. "And then switch the first and middle initials."
Fin started to smile. "So if the H stands for Howard, we find Howie Druskin."
Elliot finally turned to his computer, waking it up from its lengthy nap. It was still sitting where he'd left it the previous day when he'd been working on the list of names from the dumpster. Munch had taken it from him and completed it, but neither of them had ever checked the last name Elliot had meant to search. The cursor was still blinking at the end of the name he'd typed in and never actually searched. Douglas Ruskinowicz.
No wonder the name sounded familiar. He wanted to scream at the fact that he'd wasted a whole day, a day that Olivia spent scared and helpless, a day that Elliot could have spent finding her. If only he hadn't been so damn easily distracted by anything that looked like a lead. He should have kept focused on real police work, which obviously would have led them in the right direction sooner.
He looked up at Cragen. "He was there. His prints were on the dumpster."
"He's following her and his prints are on that dumpster. Should be enough for a warrant. I'll get Casey back here." Cragen made a beeline for his office.
"Jesus Christ!" Fin's shout made everyone jump. His eyes met Elliot's though, burning with fire. "Guess what the girl's name was?"
Elliot's throat was dry, leaving his voice sounding like a croak. "Maggie."
Munch stood up, moving to look over Fin's shoulder as though he didn't believe it.
Fin smiled. "I've got a home address too." He nodded at Elliot. "What do you say we're outside when Casey gets that warrant signed?"
Elliot jumped to his feet. "I'm right behind you."
